Inner Demons
by mermaidrain
Summary: Buffy Verse: Wherein Xander has to deal with some issues on his own. Takes place during Buffy S6.


Xander Harris had just done the unthinkable. He had left the woman he loved at the alter. What the hell had he been thinking? He should turn around and go back. He could say that it had all been just some lame joke, because he was known for those, right? But his feet kept walking in the opposite direction.

He just couldn't shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that those visions had given him. They'd been too real to be a joke because they were exactly what he had been afraid would happen. Some of his dreams had been just like those illusions. Sometimes Anya had been a preying mantis who had bitten off his head. Sometimes she had been an ugly demon that had eaten their children in some bizarre ritual. But his worst nightmares had been the ones where Anya and he had fought like his parents, despising each other for the life they'd been stuck with. Those had been the ones that had made him wake up in a cold sweat.

Anya made him happy and he had thought that would be enough. But that old man had shown him one thing: he was lying to himself. It didn't matter that it was some vengeance scheme. He knew it was the truth. He knew deep down in the very fibers of his being that Anya wasn't the one for him.

Xander sighed. "Great. So pathological idiot _is_ a real condition." Why couldn't he have figured this out _before_ he'd proposed to her? And now he couldn't even go home, as the only home he had was an apartment he shared with Anya. Xander forced his feet to stop moving and looked around. It wasn't until then that he noticed the rain and how wet his clothes were. And he was almost in the bad part of town. _There's a good part?_ he thought to himself. There had to be a motel around here somewhere. He saw a blinking, neon-sign over the rooftops a few blocks away for a "Shep's Inn." Or at least he assumed that's what it said, as a few letters were burnt out in the middle of "Shep." Xander sighed again. It was better than having to face Anya tonight after what he'd done. He resumed walking, but in the opposite direction. First he had to make a pit stop.

* * *

The stop-and-go mart had everything he needed: toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo and conditioner. What was he missing? A razor. Anya was always getting on his case about being well shaved. She didn't like facial hair of any kind—something about that troll ex-boyfriend of hers. Somewhere in his mind, he realized he no longer needed to do anything for her—wear the soft shirt she liked to snuggle with or the cologne she liked best on him—but he didn't want to let that go just yet. He found some razors on sale, $2 for a bag of five, and grabbed them.

The girl behind the counter was too busy talking on the phone with her boyfriend to help him. He laid a twenty next to the cash register, grabbed one of the small paper bags on the counter for his stuff and walked out. He didn't want to bother her. Maybe it wasn't impossible for her to find happiness. But he doubted it. More likely than not her boyfriend would screw it all up by kissing some other girl he knew. Or leaving her at the alter. He resumed walking in the direction of that motel he'd seen.

* * *

Xander rang the bell on the motel desk. A fat, balding man in a dirty tank top shuffled out from the office a few minutes later. "Yeah?" he asked without removing the well-chewed toothpick from his mouth.

"I'd like to rent a room. I assume that's what you do here?" Xander jibed.

"Yeah, smart ass. That's what we do here. $80 bucks for our deluxe suite or $50 if you just want it for an hour."

"Deluxe suite it is," he said handing the man a credit card.

"Why you wearin' a tux? You run away from a weddin' or something?" the man asked while swiping his credit card.

"Why not? It worked for the French."

The man took his toothpick out and looked at him quizzically. "The French ran away from a wedding?"

"No, the French run away. Get it. They run away from … never mind." The man stuck his toothpick back in his mouth and glared at Xander. _See, _Xander thought, _lame jokes._

_

* * *

_

Xander closed the door of his motel room behind him and dropped his paper bag on a dresser nearby. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his shoes. They were all muddy now. He'd polished them only this morning for the wedding. This was worse than anything his parents had said or done to each other. How could he have been so stupid? He'd not only managed to repeat their mistake, but he had topped it by making one ten times worse. He couldn't even bring himself to feel relieved that he'd "narrowly escaped" the same life they lived. He'd hurt someone he loved, possibly beyond repair. And she would hate him just as much as his parents hated each other. He put his head in his hands and cried.

He cried in shame at what he had done and he cried to think that he could be as cruel as either of his parents. But mostly he cried because it was over. His beautiful sarcastic Anya wasn't his any more. Already he missed her.

Xander lay back on the bed, physically and emotionally worn out. He began to drift off to sleep but just before he slipped into unconsciousness he felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck. It only lasted a second.

* * *

Xander could hear his parents yelling over the music he was playing in his room while he did his homework. If he turned it up too loud, they'd come and yell at him. He pulled out a pair of headphones and put them on. "All the better to _not_ hear you with my dear," he said to no one.

They were muffled now, but they were still there. And he could feel the walls shake as they slammed doors and did who-knew-what-else to the house. He wondered what new hole he'd find later that needed to be fixed.

Suddenly the door flew open and his dad was yelling at him. Only he _was_ his dad. "It's all your fault!" he screamed at his son and saw him yank his earphones off. "If she hadn't been pregnant with you, we would never have had to get married!" He saw his son blanche as if he'd hit him. He felt guilty instantly, but he was so pissed off he wasn't going to take the time to apologize. He stormed out of the room and stomped down the hallway towards his bedroom. He could hear Anya crying inside. He tried to open the door but it was locked. "Open up!" he shouted.

"Go to hell!" she screamed back at him. He pounded on the door and his fist went through it, sinking into the wood as if it were thick syrup. He pushed his way through the muck and came out of his high school locker. Cordelia was standing there looking at him in disdain.

"Shower much?" she asked him. He looked down to find he was covered in what looked like mud.

"It's a new look," he quipped.

"What? Pig wallowing in slop?"

"You know," he tried to find a good come back as she was stood there waiting. And waiting. _God why couldn't he think of something witty to say back?_

Then Willow was there tugging on his sleeve and dragging him away. "Come on. Let's go before this gets ugly...er," she looked pointedly at his clothes.

"That's right," Cordelia's voice trembled, "leave me for her." She turned away, crying, and walked down the hallway. He wanted to run after her but Willow was snuggling up against him.

"Willow—"

"It's okay," she said stopping his mouth with her hand. "You're only interested in me because I'm unavailable. I've always loved you, but you never noticed. I was there before anybody else was, before any other girl or any other friend. But you never cared!" He could hear thunder in the distance and suddenly it was raining in the hallway. Willow's eyes turned pure black. "Maybe I'll turn you into a toad, a regular frog prince, like I turned Amy into a rat. Maybe _then_ you'd appreciate me." She raised her hands and he could see a ball of flickering light in her hands like one of those storm globes in science class. He backed away and ran into a nearby classroom.

A teacher was writing at the chalkboard in a room full of male students only. Miss French turned to look at him and he screamed like a startled girl. _At least it had been a short scream._

"Ah Xander, my favorite student. Come on in and join us. I was just explaining why you are the sexiest boy in school." Xander looked at the chalkboard and saw that she had indeed diagrammed his sexiness. It made perfect sense. He looked out at the class to find the rest of the guys were glaring at him.

"Well now," he said turning his head back in her direction only to find a giant preying mantis in her place.

"Yes my little crumpet?" she cooed, birthing out a slimy egg sac. Xander screamed again and fled the room. "Wait, I need you to father my children!" she yelled after him. He could hear her buggy feet clacking against the tiles in the hallway behind him as he ran. He didn't want to look back. He turned a corner and almost collided with Willow floating in mid-air.

"There you are!" she roared. Then she shot a bolt of lightning at him. He jumped and ran another direction. Both Willow and Miss French were chasing him now. The sound of scuttling claws and the sizzling of electricity echoed around the hallway.

"Xander," they both chanted after him. He ran in the direction of the principal's office, but when he got there he nearly plowed over Anya in full vengeance-demon garb standing with Cordeila.

"Is this the boy Cordy?" Anya asked, her face a horror of meshed flesh and blood.

"Yes, he's the one," she said pointing at him. "I wish … I wish …" he ran away before he could hear what punishment she would wish upon him.

"Oh no you don't!" Anya screamed behind him. "You can't run away from punishment you deserve." They began to pursue him now too, and it sounded as if the others had caught up. He was practically leading a parade!

He ran, but he wasn't getting anywhere. Almost as if he was staying in the same spot. He could practically feel them breathing on his neck and his heart was about to burst out of his chest in terror. He _had_ to do something! He saw a pair of doors to the side of him and dove out them into the bright sunlight.

Buffy was there, standing beside the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. "It's about time," she said. "You're late." He walked over to her.

"I am?"

"Yes, we're supposed to go patrolling."

"Uh, Buff. I hate to bring it up, but it's daytime. The vampires won't be out until say sunset-ish."

"It's not vampires I'm worried about Xander," she pointed behind him. "You've got issues." He heard the doors open before he saw them—the bug, the witch, the demon and the ex-girlfriend—still chasing him. Why couldn't he out-run them? He legs began to move before he even thought about it, but this time Buffy ran with him.

"Thanks," he yelled over at her.

"No problem," she yelled back. "Now tell me what's going on." She grabbed his hand and yanked him into The Magic Box. Xander looked around at the empty store.

"How did we…where are…"

"It doesn't matter. I think we both know what's going on here." She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm dreaming?" And he knew it was true. _God, what a nightmare!_ Now all he had to do was wake up. Only he didn't. "Once you realize you're in a dream, isn't it supposed to stop?"

"Exactly!" Buffy looked triumphant, as if she'd just solved world hunger.

"Exactly what? Why aren't I waking up?" The door at the front of the shop started to pound and he jumped. "Oh God. They've found us."

"Don't worry, we're safe in here. For now." _She really did know how to reassure a guy._

"What's wrong with my dream Buffy? This isn't normal."

"No it's not. We need to research this and figure out what it is that's doing this." Buffy started grabbing books down off the shelves, flipping through them really fast and throwing them down on the table in the middle of the floor. Something was tickling Xander's mind. He should know this. It was right on the tip of his tongue.

"Wait a minute. I remember! Just before I fell asleep…" he was confused. That wasn't it.

"Just before you fell asleep," she coaxed. He couldn't quite get it, but it was right there at the back of his mind.

"Look Buff, I just don't know…" he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "Wait! My neck. I think it has something to do with my neck…" Buffy drew closer and began to examine his neck.

"What, like a vampire? Did you get bit?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed and saw her look of horror as she began to slowly back away from him. "Wait, no! I'm not a vampire Buffy."

"What then?"

"I honestly don't know, but something … bit me. I'm sure of it."

"This isn't good. I think I've heard about this somewhere. I read this short story once in school about a lady who slept herself to death—they could never find anything wrong with her, she just slept a lot—and in the end they found this giant bug in her pillow, like a leech that had been sucking her dry. Xander, if you don't wake up, you could die."

Xander panicked. He willed himself awake as hard as he could, but it wasn't working. And his dream was pounding on those doors harder than ever.

"Buff I can't wake up! I'm going to die. And I won't even get to tell Anya I'm sorry." He plopped down in a chair.

"This is a dream Xander. There's always a back door. You just have to find it. Think Xander!" Buffy started to pace. "If this was a movie, what would the main character do?"

"You're right!" Xander jumped up. "In the movies when the bad guys start to come at you, they don't just disappear. You have to defeat them first like Spiderman defeated the Green Goblin." Buffy stopped and looked at him.

"It was the first thing that came to my mind," he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"Only I don't think defeating them," Buffy gestured towards the doors, "is going to help here. We're not talking fighting and killing. I think it's a little more than that. I think you have issues and they need to be resolved. Like psychologically. Or you will never wake up."

"And how—"

"One at a time. Deal with them one at a time." Xander thought of the 4 women on the other side of that door and there was one he wanted to talk to more than any of the others.

"Willow," he said and suddenly she was there in front of him, still pissed and ready to turn him into a toad. He dove under the table as she hurled another bolt of lightning at him. "Wait!" he screamed and her hand paused in mid-air with another mass of energy and light ready to be thrown.

"You're right you know," he told her while cautiously peeking around one of the table's legs. "I never appreciated you." Her hand started to lower. "You were my best friend and I knew you might have had feelings for me, but I didn't want to admit it. I thought about it once and I just didn't have … those feelings for you. And I didn't want to lose you by telling you that. You were the only friend I had."

Her hand lowered all the way and the ball of light disappeared. "I'm sorry I complicated things," he said, "when I finally did realize I was attracted to you. I was stupid and let my hormones get the better of me, of us. I should have stayed silent like you did. I was selfish." Her eyes returned to their normal color and Xander stood up.

"It's okay Xander," she said. "I understand. Besides, I don't have those feelings for you any more. You know, the whole lesbian thing."

"Yeah, how's that going for you?" he walked closer.

"Good." She smiled that soft smile of hers that he knew so well.

"I love you Will."

"I know. I love you too." And he hugged her. More than anything he wished she were real right now. He wanted to talk to her about what had happened at the wedding, about the visions he'd seen, but as he hugged her she disappeared. He sighed.

"One down, three to go." He looked around the room and grabbed a sword off a shelf. This time he'd be ready. "Miss French." And suddenly she was there. But she was in her human form.

"Hello Xander," she smiled seductively and started to walk towards him.

"Stop right there lady!" she stopped with a look of surprise on her face. "I can't even begin to imagine what I possibly have to resolve with you. You tried to eat me!"

"Yes, but can you blame me? You are _so_ attractive Xander. Why do you think I picked you out from the rest of the class?"

"Because I was a _virgin_! It had nothing to do with anything else. You tricked me! You wanted to bite my head off and lay your eggs in my body! The only thing I regret is not chopping your head off myself." A look of rage crossed her face and she transformed into a preying mantis again who ran across the room at him. He ran to meet her with his sword, but her body was bigger than his and she slammed him backwards into the table overturning it. As Xander grabbed the edge of it to keep from falling, one of her forelegs slashed out at his sword arm and cut it, but he didn't drop the sword.

"What the hell! This is _my _dream you 4-legged freak!" he screamed. He swung the sword at her, connecting with her other arm and chopping it off. She stumbled backwards in shock and he jumped at her. He swung the sword faster and faster, hacking her to pieces until she stopped moving. He looked down at his clothes now covered in bug goo and grimaced. "Great. I look even more fashionable now." He threw the sword down and tried to wipe some of the slime off his clothes. He groaned in frustration and finally just gave up. "Cordelia," he said with a sigh and she appeared at the top of the stairs in front of the door.

"Oh my God! What happened? You're … bleeding! Are you hurt?" she ran towards him.

"I'm not hurt; it's just a scratch."

"Well good," she said. Then she slapped him across the face.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You're such a jerk!" she turned away from him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Cordelia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just…"

"Stupid!"

"Yes."

"I gave up everything for you Xander." She turned on him, her eyes flashing with anger and her finger stabbing him in the chest as she poked him backwards across the room. "My friends, my popularity, even my keen fashion sense started to hurt around you. I mean there's only so much one can do to counteract the nerdiness draped on one's arm."

"I'm sorry Cordy, but it's not like I was the love of your life." She paused at that.

"True."

"I mean, come on. It was fun while it lasted, right?"

"Are you serious?"

"Come on Cordelia. We were horny teenagers! We had a lot of quality time making out in that janitor's closet as I recall."

"Is that all I was to you? Just a good grope in the dark? Didn't I ever mean anything more to you than that?"

"Yes," he sighed, "you did. I did love you and I felt horrible about what I was doing to you when I was cheating on you with Willow. But she never berated my fashion sense."

"What is that supposed to mean? Is that some sort of lame justification for what you did?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Willow was my best friend, Cordelia. She's been my best friend since Kindergarten. She understood and accepted me just as I was. You always made me feel like you were lowering yourself to be with me, like you couldn't bring yourself to quite admit you actually liked me."

Her shoulders slumped and she walked over to sit down in the chair by the overturned table. "I didn't know how to go from berating you to loving you," she said looking only at her lap. "It wasn't that I didn't love you Xander. I did. And I gave up everything I'd known before to be with you. Not willingly at first, I'll admit. But when I made the choice to be the type of person you could love instead of the popular bitch I was, you abandoned me."

He got down on his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. "I was an idiot. I can't make that up to you. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I know," she looked up at him.

"We were losing part of who we were in each other. I was changing for you, you were changing for me. I think we both knew that and knew that it had to end, but neither one of us had the courage to say so. I mean, come on, you were a fabulous bitch."

She smiled and wrinkled her nose at him. "It's true," she said. They both laughed.

"We good?"

"Yes." And she was gone. Xander got up off his knees and stood looking at the door that had grown strangely quiet. There was only one more person on the other side.

"Anya," he said and she was suddenly there, standing before him in her wedding gown, looking at him in pure anguish with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh God!" Xander dropped into the chair behind him, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No. I'm not ready for this." He had expected her to be an angry vengeance-demon. He wasn't prepared for his dreams to present him with reality. He opened his eyes and she was gone.

"You know," Buffy said from behind the counter, suddenly making her presence known again, "you need to talk her at some point or you're never going to wake up."

"I know, but I can't. I … I just can't. Not yet."

"Well, you've got two more issues left so start with the other one and let's get this done."

"Two? No, Anya's the last one."

"Are you sure about that?" He thought about it and realized that his nightmare had started before the parade of ex-girlfriends. He still had to deal with his dad.

"Are you serious? Is this a Freudian bug that bit me?"

"It's taping into your mind Xander. If you don't face your darkest fears, you'll never get out of here."

He sighed. "Fine. Bring it on." And suddenly he was back at the beginning, listening to his parents yelling over his music. Only this time he didn't put on his headphones to drown it out. He got up and walked to his bedroom door, taking a deep breath before opening it and going out into the hallway. It was dark, but there was light to his left. He walked towards the sound of their voices and the light at the end of the hallway. He found them in the middle of the living room standing less than two feet from each other and yelling at the top of their lungs.

And even though he was standing right in front of them, he couldn't hear what they were saying to each other. It was still muffled, but it didn't matter. This fight was like any other fight they had. He could still hear the ugliness, the anger and the hatred nonetheless.

"Stop," he said, but they didn't hear him. All they could see was each other and the world that encompassed them. He watched them get more and more agitated until his dad turned around and threw the beer he'd been holding across the room. "Stop!" Xander screamed and his parents finally saw him. They looked shocked and alarmed. Xander looked down at himself to see what the problem was and saw that he was much shorter somehow. And he was wearing fuzzy, blue, one-piece pajamas with feet. He must have been 5 and he was crying. His mother came towards him and picked him up.

"What are you doing out of bed Xander?" she asked.

"I heard you guys yelling," he whimpered in a voice that didn't even sound like his. "It woke me up." His mother was stroking the back of his head as she held him to her. He could see his father behind her sit down in his armchair as if he had no strength to do anything else. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry little buddy," his dad said. "It's okay. We were just … disagreeing about something."

"Is it really my fault?" Xander asked. His father looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"No. It's not. Come here." And suddenly his mom was gone and he was 10 years old. His dad had a beer belly now, but he was sitting in the same armchair. Xander walked over to him and sat on the couch beside him.

"Listen buddy, I said some things I didn't mean. Your mom and I … we love each other. But we don't always get along. It's not your fault, ok. It's never your fault."

"Are you guys getting a divorce?"

"I don't know." His father looked sad and small. "I love her Xander," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you guys." Xander put his hand on his dad's knee.

"We're not going anywhere dad. We'll always be a family, even if we never really get along with each other." His father smiled.

"When did you get so smart?" he asked.

"I grew up," he said and he was his normal self again. His dad disappeared and he was in his own living room at his current apartment sitting on the couch. "Anya," he said and she was there with him too. This time she was wearing jeans and a top, as if they were just at home hanging out together. She was cooking at the stove with her back to him.

"Look," she said without turning around, "I'm being all domestic and making dinner."

"Anya, come here. We need to talk."

"No. Because you're going to talk about bad things and break my heart. And I don't want to talk about that right now. Can't we just pretend that everything is normal?"

"No."

She turned around and faced him, a spoon in her hand and tears streaming down her cheeks again. "Why not?"

"Because things will never be normal again."

"But we love each other. Can't we make this work somehow?"

Xander got up and walked to her. He hugged her, spoon and all. "Sometimes love isn't enough," he said. "I know that now. I need to tell you in person, to explain to you why I did … what I did. I can't resolve this here. This is just a dream."

And with that he woke up. He was back in his motel room and looking at the ceiling groggily. He felt like falling back asleep, but he fought it. He struggled to sit up and jumped out of bed. He grabbed the brown bag off the dresser and ripped it open. He tore open the razors and picked up the bottle of shampoo. Then he dashed back to the bed and yanked the pillow off to find a black bug underneath about the size of his hand with two sharp antennae-like things on its head. He hit it with the bottle, but it glanced off its hard shell. He threw the bottle away and grabbed the lamp beside the bed. He hit the bug until its shell broke and its insides were sufficiently soupy. Then he tried to cut off one of its antennae with his razor, but it snapped in his hand. He went through all of the razors in the bag before he was able to finish cutting off its antennae.

"I swear this is the last time I buy razors on sale! And the last time I stay in a motel in _this_ town." He walked out the door without looking back. He had people to confront and apologize to. This was going to be a very long day.

**Disclaimer: The characters from the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Xander, Buffy, Willow, Anya, etc) are not of my own creation. They are the property of Joss Wheadon.**

**Author's Note: This story is the result of a writing contest that wanted a Season 6 Buffy story that had to include the following sentences:**

**1) "Let's go before this gets ugly...er."**

**2) "Why not? It worked for the French."**

**3) "I swear this is the last time I buy on sale!"**

**4) "So pathological idiot is a real condition."**

**5) "I'm not hurt; it's just a scratch."**

**Unfortunately the writing contest fizzled out before any results were in so I have no idea how this story would've fared.**


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